Mirror Dreams

by Ster Julie

Coding: S/Mc (slash)

Rating: PG-13

Part 1/1

Summary: A forced mindmeld in the mirror universe gives McCoy nightmares.


Leonard McCoy was pinned by that cold obsidian stare more than the vise-like grip his attacker had on his arm and face.

Leonard awoke with a start. After that nightmare, he knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon. He snuggled up to his warm bondmate's back and traced light, lazy circles on the fur of his beloved's belly, careful not to disturb his slumber.

Leonard knew that if he closed his eyes again, he would dream of that awful experience from the day before, of that hellish trip to that evil universe where nothing was right. His lover's face, so familiar to him, so welcoming, had been perverted into something so satanic.

Leonard had never been so frightened before.

Spock awoke at the gentle stroking.

"Can you not sleep, Lenkam?" he asked gently, leaning into Leonard's embrace. "Or do you wish to be intimate?"

Leonard pulled back. Spock took that as an invitation to turn to face him.

"No, no," Leonard said nervously. "I just had a bad dream and haven't fallen back to sleep yet."

"I can help with that," Spock reminded him gently as he reached for the psi points on Leonard's face.

"NO!" McCoy screamed as he leapt from their bed.

Spock's insides turned to ice. Something had happened in that mirror universe to his sweet Lenkam, something traumatic. Spock rose from the bed to comfort his mate, but Leonard withdrew to the other side of the room divider.

"Please," Leonard pleaded, "don't touch me!"

Spock stayed on his side of the mesh, gripping it tightly.

"What happened to you, Lenkam?" Spock moaned. "Who hurt you so?"

Leonard shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to ignore it, to not think about it, to pretend that it didn't happen. Maybe with enough time it would all go away like the bad dream it was. The professional side of him said otherwise, but Leonard was not up to listening to reason, not yet anyway.

"Tell me how I can help you, Lenkam!" Spock pleaded.

Leonard was afraid to look at his mate. He was afraid that if he looked at Spock's face, he'd see the bearded guise of the mirror Vulcan. He couldn't bear to see another frosty glare out of eyes that usually held such fire for him.

"Let me help!" Spock implored. "Tell me who hurt you."

Leonard's chin began to quiver. "Someone who wore your face," he whispered, miserable.

Spock gripped the divider so tightly that the mesh began to cut into his skin. "My . . . counterpart did this to you?" he rasped. "Did he touch your body?" Leonard shook his head. Spock's face fell. "A'Tha, no!" he breathed.

Leonard had to force the words between his trembling lips. "He forced a meld on me."

A popping noise could be heard as Spock ripped the divider from its housing. He flung the screen aside and moved toward a frightened McCoy. Spock crushed his Leonard to himself.

"My mate, forgive me!" Spock begged. "You were threatened, attacked, and I was not there to defend you!"

Leonard recovered from the shock of seeing an angered, almost crazed Spock, and threw his arms around trembling Vulcan shoulders in response.

"It's okay," he soothed. "I'm fine." Spock pulled back suddenly.

"It's not 'okay'!" he shouted. "And you may not be 'fine'!"

"What do you mean?" Leonard answered.

"We don't know what damage he did to you, to our bond," Spock replied bitterly. "He may have implanted something that would be triggered at a later time."

Leonard knew that Spock used the word "time" as a euphemism for pon farr.

"Like what?" Leonard asked.

"Lenkam," Spock anguished, taking Leonard's head in his hands, "if there is any hesitation in you while I am in the fever, I may hurt you, or worse."

"You would never hurt me, Spock," Leonard stated with conviction. "I trust you completely."

Spock caressed Leonard's cheek at that.

"But I don't trust myself," he whispered.

"Can you take a look and see what he did?" Leonard said, brushing his head against Spock's hand.

Spock thought of the seething anger that pulsed through him. His Lenkam did not need to see that now. Besides, he needed the assurance of a trained professional that their bond was untouched, undamaged. His greatest fear was hurting Leonard while in the throes of the plak tow.

"No," Spock said at last. "I will arrange for the best healer to check you."

Leonard nodded. He wasn't thrilled about having a stranger crawl through his head --again-- but he trusted Spock's judgment.

The two men moved back to the bed. Spock spooned against Leonard's back and held him close, protected. Soon, the two were fast asleep.

Spock walked through mists, roiling couds of white that suddenly tuned red. He found himself on the sands of koon-ut kalifee, a heavy lirpa hanging from one hand.

On the other side of the arena stood a cloud-shrouded figure. His beard and ice-cold eyes appeared first from the mists. The being wore Spock's face, and Spock knew he was facing his mirror self, his greatest threat, the person he had the potential to become if he did not keep faithful to c'thia, to the ways of Surak, the way of logic.

Spock saw the figure move toward the edge of the arena to where his Lenkam stood. With a roar, Spock hefted his weapon and charged. He batted his mirror self to the center of the arena and charged again.

There was a fierce battle. Blow after blow was countered, swipe after swipe of the blades cut through the air.

"You will never have my mate!" Spock yelled. "Never!"

A mighty blow from the mirror figure broke the staff of Spock's lirpa. He backflipped several times to get away from the other's charge. Scooping up an ahn woon, Spock whipped it over his head and flung it at his opponent's legs. The other went down in a tangle of bound legs and leather straps. Spock took the other's lirpa and brought it down on his opponent with a mighty blow.

"MINE!" he shouted.

Spock started. He awoke, Leonard still pressed against him, his mate still secure in his arms. Spock's heart thudded in his side at the dream, grateful that it was only a dream.

Spock brushed his lips across the juncture of his Lenkam's neck and shoulder.

"Mine," he whispered.